Chapter 1:
Author note: Hey guys! I hope you enjoy the first ever story I've written (and completed I may add). It's basically the story of how John might have met Sherlock if they went to school together. I've tried to link in as many references to the actual stories as I can, but it's very difficult to translate so bare with me. Anyway, here you go! Teen Sherlock!
Sherlock Holmes sat across the table from the latest news at the dismal prison the staff like to call "school". He rested his head onto the scruffy, graffitied desk. He had learnt nothing in the three years he had been attending that involved anything of use to Sherlock particular area of interest. Detective-work that was. Sherlock offered a service to all of the people within the school for help that didn't need the teachers' grubby noses poked into. Basically, teen pregnancies of the sixth form students and hiding cigarette packets for the year sevens. "Only four more years to go, Sherlock. You can make it," he muttered to himself.
"Sorry?" A polite, quiet voice drifted over from the other side of the table. Sherlock lifted his head a few inches off the desk to see who it belonged to. He threw the owner a puzzled look. "Erm... Did you say something?"
"Yes, but not to you..."
"Oh. Sorry," the boy said. He looked disappointed.
"Who are you?"
He perked up at the chance to converse with Sherlock. "John... Erm... John Watson. What about you? I mean, what's your name?"
"Sherlock Holmes. Why are you here?"
"Well, I moved from the country with my sister-"
"No, I meant, why are you here, on my desk?"
"Oh, well... erm... Well... there was nowhere else to sit and this desk is practically empty..."
"So you just thought you'd join my table without asking?"
"Erm... I guess I just thought... you know..."
John seemed to have sparked something in Sherlock that he had only ever felt when a particularly interesting case arose. Sherlock glared at John with such ferocity, wondering what was so special about this gibbering boy who sat before him. He came to the conclusion that he was being unfair with John, and that he was new, so he didn't know that Sherlock was socially broken.
"Fine, you can sit here for the remainder of the year. I suspect you'll find another seating arrangement by then anyway."
"Okay... thanks, I guess..."
"I just want to say, before you hear the things about me that might make you no longer want to share my desk, they are all true. Except the one about Mrs Hudson in the reception. She is not my mother, although she has been very much like one for all my years here."
"That's not really that bad... I mean, the things kids used to say about me didn't really involve receptionists, though apparently my mother has slept with the whole of the year nine population at my previous school," John said, an instant frown passing over his face.
"I assure you, the things that come out of these teenagers' mouths are very true. So before making any assumptions about me, listen to what they have to say. And if you want to fit in at this school, you don't want to be seen with "scum" like me." Just at that moment, the bell went for period two and Sherlock stood up to leave. Sherlock asked himself many questions that day, like "why are you pushing him away?" and "what is the point in telling him this when he's bound to find out anyway?" Sherlock felt very alone after leaving John Watson, and hoped that he hadn't ruined any friendship that he may have with him. How peculiar.
Author's note: All he wants is a friend... It's all very sad. Don't worry guys, it'll all make more sense in the future. I had the story written out and I still did it from mind so I'm sorry if it's not paced right or whatever. Leave me a review and I'll start writing the next chapter soon!